


Not The Last Man

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [109]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, M/M, Prompt Fill, Virus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Apocalyptic prompt: <i>Any, m/m, the last two men on earth</i></p><p>In which Rodney thinks he's the last man on Earth, until he meets John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not The Last Man

Rodney was frozen in place, his heart pounding in his ears. There was a man across the street, staring back at him and looking just as surprised. He was loaded down with one of those big backpacks on an aluminum frame, and he had a gun strapped to his thigh. His face was covered with a scruffy beard and his hair was long.

A man. Standing there looking at Rodney.

There hadn’t been anyone, not for thirteen and a half months. Just Rodney, foraging for food and keeping out of the way of the roving bands of wolves and mountain lions; the only animals affected by the EL virus had been primates.

The man took a step forward, and Rodney stumbled back. He fumbled for the shotgun sheathed at his back, and felt a little better once he had it in his hands. He didn’t know what the man’s intentions were, but Rodney had worked hard to build up his supplies and food stores, and he wasn’t going to just give it up to some…some…

“I won’t hurt you,” the man said after clearing his throat several times, like he hadn’t spoken aloud in a while. He held his hands up, very obviously not reaching for his weapon. “I heard you. On the radio. Rodney, right?”

The radio. Rodney had jury-rigged someone’s old ham radio, got it working. In the beginning he’d sent out regular broadcasts to try and find other survivors. The airwaves had been ominously silent, and after a while the broadcasts were just a way to keep from losing his mind. He’d talked about everything: himself, his family, his favorite foods, things he missed and didn’t miss about society at large, and how he’d never wanted to be the last man on Earth. 

Someone had been listening after all.

“My name’s John. I came a long way to find you, and just…could you please _say_ something?”

John sounded desperate, and it wasn’t like Rodney couldn’t relate. He’d thought he was lonely pre-virus, but it was nothing compared to being the last human being on Earth. Well, almost last.

“I’m Rodney,” he said, and his eyes filled with tears. “Rodney McKay.”

“If I come over there, are you gonna shoot me?” John asked.

Rodney shook his head, and lowered the shotgun. His emotions were threatening to overwhelm him in a way they hadn’t since the first months, and that was just from the sound of John’s feet on the pavement.

It seemed to take forever for John to cross the street. But for all his caution in approaching, he immediately hauled Rodney into a tight hug once they were standing in front of each other. Rodney was startled, and almost dropped the shotgun, but he wrapped his arms around John and held him back just as tightly.

He wasn’t alone. 

**Two Months Later**

The wolves were howling out in the dark, no doubt celebrating a victory in running some other poor animal down. The sound used to terrify Rodney, a reminder that if he wasn’t careful he’d be caught in those jaws one day and there wouldn’t be anyone to mourn his passing.

Things were different now. Better and worse, all at once. He had someone that would miss him, but the reverse was also true. As much comfort as Rodney found in John, there was also the knowledge that if John succumbed to wolves, or any number of grievous injuries, Rodney would be alone again. And it would be a thousand times worse going back to the life he’d had before the day John found him on the street.

Rodney had already decided that if something should happen to John, he wasn’t going to bother scratching out what remained of his existence. What would be the point?

“’s okay,” John mumbled against Rodney’s shoulder. “They can’t get in.”

“I know.” 

“Go back to sleep.” John threw his leg over Rodney’s.

There were worse people to live out the rest of his life with. John refused to shave, though Rodney had gotten him to at least trim his beard so he didn’t look like such a crazy person, but he seemed to feel genuine affection for Rodney. Or maybe he was just incredibly touch starved. Hell, they both were, but John couldn’t seem to stop touching Rodney, no matter what they were doing. Rodney was more than happy to let John have all the physical contact he wanted.

John never talked about his past, at least nothing personal. Rodney didn’t know who he’d lost, or who he’d been. It didn’t matter. All they had was the present, and there was nothing to be gained by looking back.

“Unless you want to repopulate the Earth?” John sleepily suggested, and dropped his hand down to brush against the waistband of Rodney’s boxers.

“You’re an idiot,” Rodney replied. But he couldn’t help grinning as he said it, and he pressed a kiss against John’s hair. “Go to sleep.”

“You too,” John insisted.

Rodney let out a sigh, and willed himself to stop fretting about the uncertain future, at least for a few hours. He concentrated on the warmth of John sprawled across him, and listened to John’s soft, even breaths, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Downstairs in the dining room, the ham radio flared to life.

_…repeat, this is Colonel Sam Carter of the SGC. We’re looking for survivors. Does anyone copy?_


End file.
